


Merry Christmas

by Blue_Night, mariothellama



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Anger, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Car Accidents, Christmas, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fight Sex, First proper Christmas together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Up, New Year, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Planning the perfect Christmas, Rough Sex, Ruined Dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:45:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8956768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Night/pseuds/Blue_Night, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariothellama/pseuds/mariothellama
Summary: Marco and Mario are finally spending their first Christmas together and Marco wants to do everything he can to make it perfect for Mario. But has he listened to what Mario really wants and will Marco and Mario be able to save their Christmas?





	1. The fight before Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a co-production, but the original idea for this story was Blue_Night's before they decided to take a break from this fandom. Having already persuaded mariothellama that this was a good idea and since the first chapter was already written, we decided to finish and post it anyway.

Marco loved Christmas. He had always loved Christmas. He loved everything about it. He loved the sparkling lights on a dark night. The soft glimmer of candlelight. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla, Lebkuchen and Glühwein. The warmth and bustle of the Christmas market. But most of all he loved spending time with his friends and family, with the people who mattered to him. And that was why this Christmas was going to be the best ever. This would be the first Christmas he spent together with Mario.

They would spend the evening of 24th of December with Marco’s family. His parents and sisters loved Mario and were looking forward to welcoming them into the heart of their family celebration. And Nico was almost throwing up with excitement at the thought of Uncle Mario coming for Christmas. And then they would spend the next couple of days on their own. Just them. Just the two of them. No work. No commitments. No training. Just time for them to reconnect and be together.

They hadn’t had this much time alone since Mario came back to Dortmund and they badly needed it before they would celebrate New Year with their friends. For the truth was that Marco loved Christmas. But he loved Mario more. And all he really wanted this Christmas was for him and the man he loved to be able to spend a couple of precious days together.

Marco knew that Mario would miss his family, that this would be the first Christmas he hadn’t spent with his extended family in Bavaria. But that was part of them finally committing to being a proper couple. Real couples spent Christmas together. And that was why, even though the only thing he really wanted for Christmas was Mario, Marco wanted to make everything extra special and totally perfect this year.

Marco had been running around for days now. Making sure that he had all of Mario’s favorite food for the time they would spend alone together. Buying presents and candles and decorations so that their home would be the most Christmassy place in the whole of Dortmund. And he had chosen the perfect tree for them to decorate.

He had been a little disappointed that Mario hadn’t come with him to choose the tree. Marco had the perfect picture in his mind of them going to choose a tree together and then coming home happy and laughing with cold, pink noses to snuggle up together and get warm. Just like one of those cheesy Hollywood films. But Mario had made excuses.

Come to think of it, Mario hadn’t been that interested in any of their Christmas preparations. But Marco had put that down to it being the end of a long, tiring and bitterly disappointing first half of the season for them both. They had been looking forward to playing together again so much, but that hadn’t really gone to plan thus far. They had managed it exactly twice, never for the full ninety minutes and neither time had really been an occasion that Marco wanted to remember. That was one more reason why they needed this time together so badly. And the one advantage of being suspended was that it gave Marco even more time to organize the perfect Christmas for Mario!

The 23rd of December came round and Marco started to excitedly decorate the tree. He had the idea that they could light the candles tonight and enjoy an evening of snuggling together before all the family excitement tomorrow would bring. Marco knew that Mario had to keep his own flat for the sake of appearances. But he thought of his home as ‘their’ home now. He wanted Mario to feel that this was his home. Maybe Mario would even be ready for them to move in together properly one day?

He was just about finished when Mario came home. Marco rushed forward to hug him, helping him out of his outdoor clothing. He took Mario by the hand, excitedly tugging him into their living room to admire the tree. ‘I thought that we could light the candles on the tree tonight and spend the evening snuggling and cuddling, just the two of us.’

Mario’s voice was cold and emotionless. ‘Don’t be stupid, Marco. Nobody lights the tree candles on the 23rd. We need to wait until tomorrow. That’s the tradition.’

Marco was a little upset, but he knew that Mario was tired. ‘I’m sorry, Mario. But I thought that we could make our own traditions now that we are finally spending Christmas together.’

‘Oh yes, _our_ traditions,’ Mario sneered, ‘when we all know it is about _your_ family and what _your_ family wants and I just have to go along with it.’

‘But my family love you, Mario. They are so happy that you will be spending Christmas with us. Nico has been excited for weeks. And your family … and me … well … you know how it is. And us spending Christmas together means so much to me.’

‘Oh yes, Marco. Good one. Now is the perfect time to bring up the fact that you think that my family don’t like you. Now, when I have sacrificed _my_ Christmas, with _my_ family, just to be with you.’

Marco was genuinely upset now. There was something wrong with Mario, it was his fault and he didn’t know how to fix it. He stretched out a hand to stroke Mario on the cheek, but Mario drew back, refusing to let Marco console him. This felt almost like a physical blow to Marco. No matter how bad things had been over the years, they had always been able to find comfort in one another’s arms. But not this time.

And then Mario said the words which chilled Marco to his bones. It wasn’t even what he said, but the way that he said them.

‘I’m sorry, Marco. I just can’t do this anymore. Not this. Not Christmas. Not here with you.’

And then he turned and walked away, closing the door behind him.

Marco sank down on the sofa, his head in his hands, unable to believe that Mario was gone. He felt cold and alone. He had been so looking forward to this, he had wanted to make everything perfect, and it had all gone so terribly, horribly wrong.

But then Marco began to slowly realize that that was perhaps part of the problem. He had been so focused on giving Mario the perfect Christmas that he hadn’t paid attention to what Mario really wanted.

Thinking back, Mario had never been that enthusiastic about any of this. He had responded to all of Marco’s excited reports about what he was planning in dull monosyllables. Marco had put that down to tiredness and the fact that he knew that Mario’s knee had been hurting him these past weeks, which was always a worry. He had hoped that the perfect Christmas together would let finally Mario relax and enjoy himself. But he had failed in the most important thing. He had failed to listen to what Mario was really saying.

He could fix all of that now. He had to. None of this mattered to him, not the Christmas tree, not the fridge groaning with food. All that mattered was Mario and them being together. If that meant them both driving to Bavaria overnight so that they could be there on Christmas Eve, then so be it. They would be able to find a hotel somewhere even at this short notice – there were some advantages to being obscenely rich, famous footballers – and that would work. Maybe Marco should have thought of this in the first place? His family would miss him, but they would understand.

So he sent Mario a message: _Come home, Sunny. Please. I love you and want to be with you. That’s all that matters. That’s all I want. We can fix this. Whatever you want. Just come home._

Marco spent the night checking his phone every ten minutes, terrified that he would miss Mario’s reply. But the reply never came.

Marco went to bed alone, the pillow cold and empty next to him without Mario’s head lying on it. The sense of loss, the feeling of emptiness, was almost physically painful and such a cruel contrast to all of his hopes and dreams. But Marco comforted himself with the thought that Mario would be there when he woke up.

Christmas Eve dawned. The day Marco had been looking forward to for so long now. But there was no Mario. Marco was still cold and alone, feeling dead and empty inside.

When Marco came home that night to a dark, empty house, he still felt cold and alone, but now he felt something else: angry.

Of course part of Marco couldn’t help worrying if Mario was OK, even though he knew that Mario’s family would have let him know if there was something wrong. But mostly Marco felt angry. Angry that Mario hadn’t had the decency to reply to his message from last night or his multiple phone calls this morning. Angry that this special Christmas he had looked forward to so much had been ruined.

But Marco was even angrier that Mario had spoiled his family’s Christmas. Angry that he couldn’t properly explain where Mario was and why. He had had to make up some vague story that of course his parents and sisters saw straight through. He had endured their sympathetic looks all night. And it had broken his heart when Nico had asked if they could Skype Uncle Mario and Marco had had to say no. That had made him really, really angry.

As Marco walked into the living room, his gaze fell on the Christmas tree. That stupid tree that had been the focus of his foolish dreams of a happy Christmas with Mario. Marco walked over to the tree and kicked it hard, knocking over the beautiful tree that he had decorated with such high hopes. He kicked it again and this time he kicked it so hard that the tree flew across the room and several of the glass baubles shattered against the safety glass of the patio doors.

Marco saw something yellow glinting amidst the debris. It was the remains of one of the BVB Christmas tree decorations he had bought as a joke to celebrate Mario being back at Dortmund. That seemed like a cruel jest now. Marco stood on what was left of the bauble, grinding it into dust with his foot.

Marco felt a little bit better, but not much. So he went to bed feeling cold, alone and angry.


	2. The Meeting After Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Mario have had a big quarrel on the 23th December, and Mario has left Marco without one single word. Now, he's back in Dortmund to talk to Marco. How will this talk turn out to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mario is written as the poor and rather helpless boy in most of the fics here in this fandom, except for a few where he is tougher and written more self-confident. I wanted to write a fic about 'badass' Mario for a rather long time because I really don't approve this one-dimensional and very cliché-like view on him. When lovely mariothellama told me about the idea for a Christmas-fight-fic, I bribed them into writing this together with me. The chapters with Marco's POV go to mariothellama's credit, while I am writing the ones with Mario's POV, those of you who read their and my works can surely tell the differences in style and writing and would know that after reading the chapters anyway. :-)  
> This fic will have four chapters instead of the first planned three, and my Mario is not quite the badass I first thought him to be, but Marco insisted on me writing him in a way that Mario's struggles and problems become clearer.  
> This fic is not meant to blame Mario in any way, I like him a lot and admire him as a player, I simply don't like that he's almost always written as the shy and crying puppy. Besides, this scenery could happen to every couple struggling to connect their different lives and families, I think that it is sadly realistic and should be written as much as the fluffy Christmas fics. 
> 
> As always, your kudos and comments would mean a lot to us, they are what keeps us writers going on with writing and posting in the first place. Without your feedback, a lot of amazing writers will disappear sooner rather than later, because every human being needs praise and encouragment to go on with what they are doing. I have to admit that the feedback to this work and my Christmas A/B/O-story 'The Forgotten Day' will be crucial for my decision whether or not I will start writing for this fandom in general again, updating and finishing my other works, so if you want me to stay and write for you in the future, please let me know and leave something under both stories, please. <33
> 
> Yours Blue_Night

Mario came back to Dortmund around midday on the 26th December, after an exhausting drive from Munich to the city that he had once considered his real home and which he had always longed to come back to, secretly and without daring to admit it even to himself.

The young footballer didn't know why this had started to change all of sudden, somewhere at the beginning of December, when Marco had started to make plans for Christmas. Mario had pushed the thoughts of this special holiday people should spend with their families in the farthest corner of his mind, hoping that him refusing to deal with the expectations of Marco and the family he had left behind in Munich would solve his problems in some way.

Which hadn't happened of course.

Marco had been so excited about the prospect of spending Christmas with him together in Dortmund for the first time in years that he hadn't even bothered to ask Mario if he really wanted that, too. For the older one, this question had never appeared, Marco had simply taken his willingness and approval for granted.

Mario had come back to Dortmund, and Marco's family loved Mario much more than Mario's family loved Marco, so them staying in Dortmund and celebrating Christmas together with Marco's family had been a concrete fact for the blond.

Mario struggling with some minor injuries and having to warm the bench together with his disappointment about not really playing together with Marco – the two times they actually had played together had turned out to be bad and frustrating more than anything else – had been too exhausted to talk to him about his more than mixed feelings about Christmas.

The brunet knew that their big quarrel was mostly his own fault, and that him not being honest about his feelings and wishes had finally led to their argument, but he still felt hurt that Marco had never really asked him what he wanted, only assumed that Mario was fine with everything he planned for both of them.

Mario hadn't told his boyfriend about the call he had received before their argument, his baby brother asking him in a very small voice if they really wouldn't see each other over the holidays and where he should send the present he had bought for him, then, to Mario's place or Marco's.

Mario still remembered the lump he had had in his throat, because Felix had always been the one standing up for him when their father had put pressure on Mario for the umpteenth time again, demanding that Mario put his career and reputation for his desires and needs, ordering to break up with Marco and marry an appropriate young woman to keep up appearances.

The thought of leaving Felix alone with their sometimes pretty annoying and demanding relatives had gnawed at Mario for weeks, and when Marco had suggested to light up the admittedly beautiful Christmas tree before Christmas Eve, the hidden and suppressed frustration and doubts Mario had kept inside for too long had exploded in one great eruption, leaving both of them hurt.

Mario had fled from the place he couldn't really consider his home without his family's blessing, running away from the one he loved more than anything, had loved from the first moment on, driving all the way to Munich without even one break, but it hadn't brought him the peace and the consolation he had hoped for.

After two dreadful days of interrogation and faked smiles to not let his true feelings show, Mario had realized while tossing and turning in his lonely bed that he needed to go back and try to fix things with Marco.

Felix had been the one asking him to do that, sneaking into his room in the middle of the night, embracing him and whispering: “you love him, Sunny, you have to go to him and make up.”

Mario had pulled his younger brother close and promised him to do that and here he stood before Marco's front door, afraid to use the key Marco had given him with a smile that had told Mario that Marco's house was Mario's house if he wanted that.

Mario wanted Marco's house to be his own house more than anything, but he wasn't so sure any longer if the blond still wanted that as well because after all, he hadn't answered his calls and his text messages, too hurt and confused to do that.

The young homecomer stared at the key in his trembling fingers for one more moment before finally pushing it into the lock and turning it around, hoping that Marco would listen to him and forgive him.

 

***

 

The man he had left without any word for more than two days was in the kitchen where Mario found him after taking off his jacket and his shoes, his back to the younger one, busied with something on the kitchen counter.

Mario stopped in the doorway, a huge lump forming in his throat. His heart was hammering in his chest, drowning almost every other sound. He had seen the damaged Christmas tree in the living room, and the sight had told him that the damage he had caused was much bigger than he had feared it would be.

Marco hadn't even bothered to clean the room and bring the tree back in order, and the tension in the blond's shoulders as Mario stared at them wasn't promising either.

The brunet cleared his throat. “Hi. I'm back.”

Silence. Marco kept doing what he did without looking up, but the tension in his stiff back became worse.

Mario chewed on his lip. “What are you doing, Marco?”

The seconds stretched to minutes, all that was audible the silent ticking of the clock hanging on the wall over the door.

Finally, Marco paused in his doing, straightening from his posture, but he didn't turn around. “Preparing food to give it to a charity tomorrow. It's too much for one person.”

The lump in Mario's throat threatened to choke him by the sound of Marco's voice, emotionless and yet deeply hurt, the way it had sounded back then when Mario had told him that he would leave the BVB to play for Bayern München in the future.

“I'm sorry, Marco! I'm so sorry for having left you like without any word!” he blurted out, hoping that his own hoarse and trembling word would transfer how sorry he truly was for everything.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem to work, because Marco tensed up again. The blond eventually slowly turned around, his amber eyes shooting angry and hurt golden fire at the brunet leaning against the door frame for support.

“You are? Really? After three days of silence? Suddenly, you are sorry? It's a little bit too late for that, don't you think so? I shit on your sorry, Mario! You left me alone without even bothering to answer my desperate calls and messages, you simply chose to ignore me completely, leaving it up to me to explain to my family why you weren't there! Nico was totally upset and heartbroken because you didn't come! And now, you're suddenly sorry? Shove your sorry up your ass, Mario!”

The blond balled his fists as he crossed the kitchen, pushing Mario rudely to the side to squeeze himself through the slit that was left, storming into the living room and kicking against the already crooked tree, breaking the glass ornaments and the lights.

Mario stared after him for a couple of seconds, shocked and stunned into silence and rigor, but then his own suppressed anger and hurt rushed back to the surface with violent force, and he followed Marco into the living room, his own hands balled to tight fists as well.

“ _Your_ family again! Your oh so precious family again! Have you ever thought of _my_ family, Marco Reus? No, you haven't! _Your_ family is all you care about, just because you're too cowardly to face _mine_ and convince them that you are worthy to become a true part of it! Nico was heartbroken? I'm sorry about that, I really am! I can tell you that Felix was heartbroken as well! Do you really expect me to care more about _your_ nephew than about _my_ own baby brother? Felix was almost crying when I told him that I wouldn't come to Munich, you know how long it has been since we've last seen each other! He's only eighteen and he needs me! Did you really think that I would stop caring about him just because I came back to Dortmund? Do you have any clue about how I have felt over the past weeks? Back in Dortmund without really being back, Tuchel not letting me play most of the times? People talking about me as if I was either deaf or too dense to understand them? My family I've left behind for your sake telling me every single damn day that I've made the biggest mistake possible by going back to Dortmund while you did your very damn best to drive an even bigger wedge between us?  
Have you ever thought of what I wanted and needed? No, you haven't! You didn't even bother to ask me, you simply decided for both of us! I feel like a bone between two growling dogs pulling at each end of me the entire time, neither you, nor my family caring about my wishes!”

Mario went silent, his chest heaving with his ragged breathing. Marco had stopped kicking the tree that now lay on the carpet, the baubles shattered into hundreds of glittering pieces, and he turned his face to stare at Mario with narrowed eyes.

The younger one hadn't noticed that he had started crying, angry tears running hot over his deep red cheeks. He wiped them away with an impatient gesture, raising his chin when Marco crept closer like a big cat stalking its prey.

Marco came to halt very close before him, but he didn't touch him, only stared at him with burning eyes. “What are you complaining about, Mario Götze?” he almost spat out. “I can't see your point here! Maybe, I haven't asked you what you wanted and I'll take the blame for that, yes. But you also have never bothered to talk to me about your wishes! You could have done that easily, and I would have listened to you, you must know that! I have always listened to you, I have always been the understanding one, remember? Who was it not considering my wishes when you decided all on your own to walk away from me and search for your luck in Munich? Who was it putting his family, his career and his own wishes before me and mine for three very long years? You have once told me how selfish I've been not to follow you, give up my home, my family and everything I know and love just for the ambiguous possibility of searching my luck in Munich as well! Which wasn't such a big opportunity for you as it has turned out, right? It was always you and your family coming first and now, that I for once put my needs before yours, you are accusing me of being not considerate enough? After you leaving me alone at Christmas without any word? How dare you!”

Marco's low growl sounded like the dangerous hiss of the big cat attacking its prey any second and when he did, the blond almost jumping Mario as he pulled him close to punish him with a fierce kiss, pouring all of his hurt, fury and despair into it, Mario returned the kiss with the same force, fighting to win the upper hand in this battle.

He felt exhausted, hurt and confused, one part of him telling him that Marco was right with what he had said while the other part of him kept telling him that he had every right to be hurt and angry with the blond for having planned Christmas without him, and they soon rolled over the floor, crushing more decorations as they did so, ripping their clothes from each other's bodies.

Hands roamed over heated flesh, kneading angrily, pulling and pushing roughly as their teeth clattered against each other in more passionate and violent kisses, tongues battling for dominance and lips sucking the air out of bursting lungs.

Mario could sense soon enough what Marco was trying to do, making him surrender to him and admit his failure, but the younger one was still too upset and angry to let that happen. He might be shorter, but he was surprisingly strong and it didn't take much for him to pin the blond on the floor beneath him as they rolled and tossed around, taking his wrists in a firm grip over Marco's head on the carpet.

Marco went still and stared up at him, his breaths coming fast and his cock glistening with the milky wetness their ardent fight had pulled from him. For a long moment, they just glared at each other, neither of them willing to give in until Mario slowly bent down, bringing his mouth close to Marco's ear.

“Not this time, Marco Reus. This time, you will bottom for me! You always promise me to do that for me, but you hardly keep your promises when it comes to this, thinking that it should be me bottoming for you! But. Not. This. Time! I have enough of this!”

Marco stayed silent, just continued to gaze up at him, his eyes dark and hooded with something akin to feral lust and some other emotions Mario couldn't really detect, and the brunet waited for two more seconds, prepared for the blond attacking him to win the upper hand again.

When the older man trembling underneath him with desire didn't try to shake him off, Mario kissed him again, a little bit softer this time, using Marco's precome to lube his fingers up and push two of them between the long legs of his prey. Marco made a strangled sound deep in his throat but didn't fight against the rather harsh intrusion, only arched his back to feel the fingers working him open with single-minded determination deeper in his pulsing channel.

It didn't take long until Mario could use three, and he was actually grateful that he didn't need to get up and search for condoms. As angry as both of them might be, angry and hurt, but cheating had never been a topic of their many quarrels, both of them too much into whatever was between them to even think of that.

Mario held Marco's gaze as he spread his legs further apart to enter him with one forceful snap of his hips, sheathing himself right to the hilt in Marco's secret core, the wetness of his own nearly overwhelming arousal allowing him to do so without causing the blond real pain.

“Wrap your legs around me, Reus!” he demanded hoarsely, and Marco pulled his lips into an angry hiss but obeyed the husky order. “Sometimes, I really hate you, Götze, you know that, don't you?”

Mario laughed bitterly, pulling Marco's smooth bottom lip between his teeth to playfully nip at it. “Yes, I know, Mars, the same here. But you desire me anyway.” He started to move, almost pulling out just to slam himself into the older man's tight heat again and again until both of them were panting heavily, their eyes black with their desire for one another.

Words were choking him as Mario now pounded into his boyfriend, the man he loved with desperate force, words of accusation and hurt as much as words of forgiveness and sorrow. The brunet kept them all inside though, fearing that he would break down if he allowed them to leave his throat. He needed to think about everything, to think about what their quarrel meant for their future and whether or not there would be a real chance for Marco and him to stay together and find a way of living together without destroying each other.

He had been so happy about the prospect of coming home, playing for his beloved BVB again, playing together with the man he loved so much and live with him, but it had turned out to be much more difficult than either of them could have imagined, and all that was left after frustrating six months were doubts and pain.

Mario swallowed down the words now lying heavy like a brick in his stomach and kept moving his hips, his thrusts becoming faster and more and more urgent as he chased his release. Marco had stopped trying to free his hands and just pushed his hips up against Mario with the same despair the brunet felt, his rock-hard cock brushing against Mario's abs with every move. The younger one could feel by the throbbing and the constant leaking that the blond was close to his orgasm, that he would come untouched something that had happened only a couple of times during all those years they were together by now.

Mario changed his angle to make sure that Marco would come together with him and the first real thrust against his prostate made Marco inhale sharply, struggling to keep his cries of lust inside and not give Mario the satisfaction of hearing them. The amber-golden eyes never left his face, but Marco's heated gaze blurred when the first wave of his powerful climax hit him, making him arch into Mario's next thrust.

The feeling of hot wetness coating his abdomen and chest in fast spurts pushed Mario over the edge of his own orgasm, and he hissed through gritted teeth and buried himself deep inside the blond with one last violent thrust, filling Marco with his painful ecstasy until he was totally spent and had nothing more to give.

For some time, they simply lay there, listening to their slowly calming heartbeats and breathing. Exhaustion covered Mario like a thick blanket and his eyelids dropped against his will, his head falling down to rest on Marco's shoulder, his face pillowed in the warm crook of the blond's shoulder. His grip around Marco's wrists loosened while he slowly drifted off, the tension he had felt for days and weeks leaving his body and relaxing his muscles as his tired body succumbed to the slumber of satisfaction and drained emotions.

“I'm sorry, Mars,” he whispered against the salty skin of Marco's throat, and the blond sighed and hesitantly wrapped his arms around him. “Yes, I know. Me too, for everything,” he murmured with a strange undertone, but Mario was too tired to think about it.

His world became dark with a dreamless sleep and the next thing he knew was the annoying ringing of his phone lying somewhere forgotten in the middle of the pile of clothes they had left on the carpet during their fight.

Mario blinked his eyes open in confusion, shivering in the cool air of the now dark living room. He was alone and fear started to pool in his stomach as he fiddled for his phone that had started to ring again after a short pause of silence.

“Hello?” he mumbled, stifling a yawn as he peered around to search for any sign of Marco. The blond wasn't there though, and the silence in the entire house that seemed to be all-consuming confirmed his worst fear that the older man had left him during his sleep.

“Hello, who is it?” he repeated, his voice still husky from having been sound asleep earlier.

“Mario?” the female voice sounded desperate. “Mario, here is Yvonne. Please, wherever you are, you need to come back to Dortmund as fast as possible! Marco is in the hospital, he has had an accident!”


	3. The ornament on the Christmas tree

Marco felt Mario sink down exhausted on his shoulder, worn down by the long drive, the heated emotions of their fight and the rough, angry sex they had just had. He waited until Mario was fast asleep, holding the man he had loved since the first moment he had seen him, the man he had thought he would spend the rest of his life with, in his arms. He waited until he could hear the soft, snuffling sounds that told him Mario was lost in sleep.

Normally he would have loved to lie here in the dark, holding Mario close and tight in his arms, listening to the sound of his lover breathing. But not tonight. The sex had been good: raw and rough, rolling about in the debris of the ruined Christmas tree that had been the symbol of all of Marco’s hopes and dreams. Marco’s mouth was still sore from the violence of their kisses, from where Mario’s teeth had grazed his flesh, from where Mario’s tongue had forced itself into his mouth. His body ached where Mario had taken him so forcefully, both of them wet, leaking and aroused enough to be able to do it without lube.

They had battled for dominance, but Marco had let Mario in, he had arched into his lover’s touch. Mario was strong, but Marco could have stopped him if he had really wanted to. But he hadn’t of course. He had wanted Mario, he had wanted this, he had wanted it hot, hard and aggressive from that first kiss, from the moment they had begun to tear each other’s clothes off.

But now in the aftermath, there were no feelings of warm, loving satisfaction to lull him into slumber. He had come hard, but there had been no love in it, only sheer carnal animalistic need. Marco had never wanted that, not with the man he had loved for so long. Each one of Mario’s thrusts deep inside him had been an accusation not a declaration of love; each time Mario had pounded into him had been about doubt and pain, not pleasure and passion. 

His body had responded physically to Mario’s - how could it not? - but now his heart and soul revolted against what they had done. He hated the feeling of the sticky traces from where Mario had fucked him congealing on his body, the cold, slimy detritus of sex that now made him feel sick to his stomach, sex that had showed just how badly they had messed up their relationship.

Marco couldn’t stay here holding a sleeping Mario in his arms, listening to him breathe, even though this was his own home. Every breath felt like yet another accusation stabbing him in the heart. He even hated the very sound of Mario breathing, something Marco had never believed he could feel. 

Marco needed time and space to be able to think. He needed to be quiet and alone. So he gently lowered Mario down, covering him with one of the blankets he kept on the sofa for them to snuggle up under in happier days. In the days before Mario had come back to Dortmund.

Something glittery caught Marco’s eye as he went to slip out of the darkened room. An ornament that had somehow survived the latest assault on the poor, innocent Christmas tree that had borne the brunt of Marco’s frustrations. But this was not just any Christmas ornament, this was the one that had meant the most to Marco. He bent down and picked it up.

There was something precious hidden inside this beautiful glass ball, the box with the ring that Marco had wanted to give Mario on the 23rd when they were alone together. That was why lighting the candles on the stupid tree had meant so much to him. That was why he had left the tree where it was - it was too painful to clear it away while he went on hoping that Mario would come home to him and they could still have this magical moment that they would remember forever.

Marco had imagined the scene in his head so many times: the candle light glinting off the shiny bauble; him taking it off the tree and unscrewing the two halves of the golden sphere to hand it to Mario; the look on Mario’s face when he saw what was inside and realized what Marco was trying to tell him. Marco had imagined softly, sweetly and passionately making love to his Mario, his body illuminated by the lights of the candles, naked except for the beautiful ring gleaming on his finger.

Marco knew that they couldn’t really get married – that was sadly impossible – but he had seen the ring as a symbol of how much Mario meant to him, that he understood why Mario had had to leave, but that he was so happy he had come back. He had intended it to be a tangible, visible symbol of the fact that Mario was the man he wanted to be with forever. 

Marco knew how overjoyed his family would have been when they saw the ring on Christmas Eve, just how big a fuss they would have made of Mario, whom they had already accepted as a second son. And he had wanted to wait until the New Year’s celebrations for them to visit Mario’s parents, to wait until Mario had a ring on his finger. Marco had wanted to tell Mario’s parents that he loved their son and that he would do everything in his power to make their son happy for the rest of his life.

He wanted to finally convince Mario’s family that this was real and forever, that it would always be real, no matter what happened. Marco knew that building a life with Mario would mean building bridges with his family. That had been hard for him when Mario was in Munich, with the constant worry that the pressure and the distance could break their relationship.

He had always known that even if Mario’s family wouldn’t directly encourage Mario to leave him, they would have been relieved if he had. He had suspected that Mario’s family had hoped that being apart would cause their relationship to slowly wither and die. But their relationship had survived and now they were together again, so it was Marco’s responsibility to convince Mario’s parents that he was right for their son.

Marco sighed. It wasn’t Mario’s fault. He hadn’t known any of this. It had been Marco’s big surprise. And he understood exactly how Mario felt. Every word that Mario had said had made sense. Especially about his family, his little brother. Of course Marco understood how much Mario’s family meant to him – it was one of the many, many things he loved about him.

Marco felt ashamed that he hadn’t really listened to Mario, that he hadn’t asked Mario what he wanted to do. He had made assumptions about what Mario wanted. But Mario hadn’t told him how he felt either. And he had run away from Marco and refused to even talk to him. That was the problem. 

It was so frustrating. They had survived three years apart, three difficult years for both of them. They had both been on top of the world, at the top of their game when Mario left Dortmund, but the last couple of years had been hard for both of them. Marco missing perhaps the biggest opportunity of his career, the one that would have meant more than anything for them to be able to share. That horrific season when he had almost come to believe that Dortmund would get relegated and he had felt so helpless due to his incessant injuries.

Last season had looked so good from the outside, but Marco had been in pain every single time he played. He had known that he couldn’t go on like that. And everything had been made so much worse by Mario’s injury and by having to watch Mario slowly realize that he was not going to be able to salvage his career if he stayed at Bayern, no matter how much he wanted it to work or how hard he tried. Seeing Mario in turmoil and being unable to do anything to help him had almost hurt Marco more than the constant pain in his own body.

And then things had somehow got even worse for Marco. He knew that he had been distant and introspective these past months, cutting himself off and not talking about his feelings. He had done it to protect himself. He had been so focused on his recovery. His whole career had been on the line. 

Now Mario was back at Dortmund, it was even more important for him be fit again and play alongside Mario again. It had been so very long since they had been able to do that. So many missed chances and opportunities. So many injuries for both of them. Marco had assumed that Mario understood, that he knew what Marco was going through, that he was doing it for them, so they could be together. But he had never actually told Mario that. Marco saw that now.

And finally they were together again. Everything should have been perfect. But it was all falling apart, everything was falling apart. For Marco was coming to realize that together didn’t mean living in the same city, playing for the same team, even living in the same house. Together was something you had to work at, something you had to nourish and cherish, and that was where they had failed. 

The sex they had had this afternoon summed up everything that had gone wrong with their relationship. They had had sex instead of talking about their problems. They had used rough, angry sex as a way of masking their feelings rather than as a way of letting their feelings out. 

Marco understood now that giving Mario the ring would have been a lovely, magical Christmas moment, but it wouldn’t have solved anything. Real life wasn’t a Christmas movie. An engagement ring wasn’t an end, it was a beginning. They would have to talk. Talk about what was important to them. Talk about what they wanted and needed from each other. They would have to talk about all the things that they normally kept bottled up inside. They weren’t very good at talking. But they would have to learn to communicate if they wanted to be together.

Marco got into his car, realizing that he was still carrying the Christmas bauble with the ring inside it. He smiled ruefully and carefully placed it on the seat next to him.

Driving for an hour or so in the now dark, empty city streets would clear his mind and help him to think about what he wanted to say to Mario. He would be back by the time Mario woke up.


	4. The Promise For New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has had an accident after he had left Mario sleeping in his house. Will he survive and will Mario and Marco find their way back to each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the last chapter of our Christmas story for you, this chapter will hopefully make up for all we have pulled you through, it is the hopelessly fluffy and romantic ending you have probably craved for. As always, your kudos and comments would make us very happy, your feedback is what keeps us writers going on with writing. 
> 
> We wish all of you a Happy New Year, may 2017 be a good year for you!! <33

The constant and steady beeping of the monitors surveilling the life-signs of the young man with the blond hair lying in the hospital bed was the only sound breaking the silence, following the other young man in his sleep of exhaustion he had succumbed to several hours ago.

The one sitting on the hard chair before the sick bed of the blond slept with his face buried in his arms folded over the snow-white blanket that covered Marco's legs, Mario's shock of brown hair the only thing visible the way he had fallen asleep on his boyfriend's thigh.

The steady beeps had been Mario's only companions over the past days, and the sudden change of them as they became faster and louder rose him from his fitful slumber. Mario raised his head and blinked wearily to clear his vision, his sleep-deprived mind not able to react as quick as Mario would have liked to.

“What happened, what's wrong?” he murmured, blinking against the fog still clouding his thoughts again, but he was wide awake within the next second when he found Marco's eyes open and looking at him.

“Marco!!! You're awake, oh my God, you're finally awake!” Mario lifted his shaky hand to touch the face of the man he loved so much, fearing that he was still asleep and this only a merciful dream his troubled mind made him dream, but if Marco being awake and looking at him with his beautiful amber-golden eyes was only a vision, then it was a rather realistic one, because Marco now tried to move his own hand and touch Mario as well.

The blond opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but no sound came out, and Mario hurried to hold the glass filled with the thin tea the nurse had brought earlier against Marco's dry and chapped lips. The older one sipped gratefully, spilling some of the tea as he did so. Mario wiped the drops from his chin with a tender gesture, stroking his pale cheek.

“Mars, oh God, I was so scared, I thought I had lost you!” Mario's voice broke at the end of the sentence, and Marco grimaced and squeezed his eyes as he made another attempt to speak.

“Where am I? Why are my throat, my chest and my head hurting that much? The last thing I remember is that we had a fight about Christmas and that we fought again when you came back, that we...” Marco went silent, and Mario could see his pain as he tried to remember the happenings before his horrible accident.

The younger one swallowed, guilt, sorrow and regret pressing down on him and almost crushing him. He knew that he should call the nurse, but he needed to talk to Marco at first, confess his doing and beg for his forgiveness. The beeps had become steady again, so Marco didn't seem to be in acute danger.

“You are right, Mars, we fought and we... we slept with each other, but it wasn't the tender lovemaking it should have been. I fell asleep and when I woke up again, your sister called me and asked me to come to the hospital where they had brought you.”

Marco unconsciously bit down on his lip, flinching when he broke the already chapped skin. “I see,” he murmured, his eyes resting on Mario's face for a while. “I think I remember that I wanted to drive for a while to clear my head. Driving through the nightly city has always helped me to think about things. There was a traffic light, when it turned green, I started driving again, but this is the last thing I remember.”

Mario nodded, blindly searching for Marco's cold hand on the white blanket. “A drunken driver overlooked the red light and crashed into you. The accident broke two of your ribs and you're suffering from a severe concussion. There was a rather big swell pressing on your brain, and the doctors decided to put you into an artificial coma to keep you immobile and give your brain the time to recover from the trauma.”

Marco regarded him musingly, his face impassive and still a little bit disorientated. “Which date is today?” he finally asked, and Mario blinked against the sudden tears in his eyes. “The 30th December. You have been unconscious for five days. It is early in the evening, Doctor Krüger thought that they could risk waking you up today. The swell has decreased and your last EEG was okay, but you have to stay in bed for a couple more days. You will recover fully, but you have to take things slow for several weeks, not only because of the concussion, but also because of your broken ribs.”

“Five days.” Marco said, his voice flat. “How long have you been here with me? Where are my parents and my sisters?”

Mario swallowed against the lump in his throat. He knew that he didn't deserve Marco's forgiveness for what he had done, and he would accept it if Marco didn't want to ever see him again and would throw him out of his room.

“I have been here since Yvonne called me. I came shortly after they had brought you to the intensive care unit.”

Marco frowned and slowly turned his head to the other side, grimacing again when the movement caused him new pain. He stared at the second bed in his room, a small cot that was as neatly made as only trained nurses were capable of. “You have stayed with me the entire five days?” Marco finally asked, looking at Mario again. “They let you sleep here next to me?”

Mario blushed. “Your family was great, they told Doctor Krüger to let me stay with you. I know that I don't deserve them treating me like a family member, but they did. I used the bed only when I was too dizzy to sit at your bed any longer. I only left your side when I needed to relieve myself and for two or three quick showers.”

Mario held Marco's gaze, knowing that his exhaustion and the fears and worries he had lived through over the past five days were showing on his face. His skin was pale and blotchy, his cheeks sunken because he had hardly been able to eat, and his hair was tousled and needed to be washed badly. His eyes stung and must be red because of the lack of sleep, but the young footballer couldn't have cared less about his appearance in this moment. Marco had finally woken up after five horrible days, and this was all Mario cared about. If the older one didn't love him anymore after what he had done, then Mario would respect his wish and leave him be, if Marco wanted him to leave Dortmund again, he would respect and do that as well, but he would at least know that Marco was alive and make a full recover, the only thing truly mattering to him.

Marco regarded him for a few more seconds but then his face softened, and he lifted the hand Mario was holding up with visible effort to stroke Mario's wet cheek. The younger one hadn't realized that he had started to cry silent tears until Marco brushed them away with his thumb. “So you have sat beside my bed for five days, waiting for the doctors to wake me up from the coma they had put me into?”

Mario smiled sadly. “I would have sat here for five months, Marco. I love you. I am so sorry for what I have done to you and for my behavior, but I have always loved you more than anybody else from the first look in your eyes on. I was a selfish and childish asshole, and I will never forgive myself for what I have done to you and your family, for all the pain I have caused, but I hope that you will be able to forgive me one day. I know that the word sorry can't undo anything, that it can't undo the damage I have done, but I am sorry, Marco, I truly am, more than you will ever know.  
I have made the mistake of thinking that the expectations of others could be more important than our love for one another – more important than us being together – but I will never make the same mistake again.  
If you're willing to give me a second chance, than I will never ever forget that you mean more to me than anybody else and anything else in this world, more than football and more than the wishes of my parents to keep up appearances and be the straight footballer publicity expects me to be. I love you, Mars, please, let me prove to you that I really love you and that I will never let you down again!”

The young man was breathless after his little speech, and he waited anxiously for his boyfriend's – former boyfriend's? - reaction.

It came in the appearance of Marco's unique lopsided grin that showed the cute dimple in his cheek. It was a pained and less bright copy of his usual crooked smile Mario had fallen in love right at first sight, but it was still so very his beloved Mars, his soulmate and his everything that all Mario could do was smiling back, a rather teary copy of his own bright smile, but a honest and happy smile, nonetheless. When Marco stroked his cheek again, Mario knew that his wonderful boyfriend had already forgiven him – the greatest gift Mario had ever gotten in his entire life.

“I love you too, Sunny, and I am sorry for what I have done as much as you are. Don't let us dwell in regret and self-pity any longer, but look forward and start anew. We have both made mistakes, and as painful as this Christmas might have been for both of us, but maybe we've needed this to realize what's really important in this world. I have done the same, taking my family's wishes and my own personal ones more important than ours, but I have learned my lesson as well, and I want us to be together, really be together.”

Mario pressed his lips against Marco's fingers, overwhelmed with gratitude and joy. “I want that too. I want to live with you like in really live with you, and I want the world to know about us.”

Marco chuckled at the pathetic tone of his voice. “You would actually risk your family's disapproval and move in with me officially?” he asked curiously, his voice sounding much stronger than only a few minutes ago, Mario's love declaration had obviously revived his spirits.

Mario knew that he should really call for the nurse, but he was too happy that Marco was willing to give him a second chance to care about that. “I would do that, yes. Truth to be told, I did that right after I had come here, telling them that they could kiss my ass if they wouldn't change their mind about us.”

“I see. And how did they react?” Marco murmured, his expression proving to Mario that he feared for the worst outcome.

Mario smiled happily as he remembered this special phone call. “They were dismayed and shocked about what happened and came here with the next flight. They're staying in my flat and are eager to visit you and apologize to you.”

Marco stared at him with his mouth hanging open. “You're kidding.”

Mario shook his head with a grin. “No, I'm not. They even conspired with your family, promising us a delayed Christmas party all together when you're allowed to go home again. Nico was out of his mind when he heard that – which reminds me that I have to call the nurse and tell our families the good news!”

Marco groaned but smiled, gently pulling at Mario's hand. “You can do that after you have proved your love to me in a proper way. I want a kiss!” he demanded like a small, pouting child, and Mario rolled his eyes but obeyed happily.

“I love you, Mars!” he whispered, kissing him gently on his mouth, and when Marco kissed him back, murmuring a tender “I love you too, Sunny!” against his lips, Mario knew for sure that everything would be alright again.

 

***

 

Night had fallen over Dortmund early again, but the two young men in the white hospital room had only eyes for each other and didn't care about the world outside.

Marco's state had improved immensely since his waking up, and Doctor Krüger was positive that his young patient would be able to leave the hospital within the next week to recover fully in his own home. The nurses had brought him to another, more comfortable room around midday, and Mario almost missed the constant and steady beeping of the monitors, but only almost.

The morning and the afternoon of the last day of the year that had brought so many changes for both of them had gone by with visits from Marco's and Mario's family, both sides relieved and happy that Marco was awake and doing so much better than they had feared he would. Mario had been amazed how much his father had changed his behavior, treating Marco like a long missed son and apologizing to him in a way that there were no doubts left about Marco being a cherished and welcomed relative of the Götze family in the future.

Marco had fallen asleep again after the last visitor had left them, exhausted from all the excitement, and Mario had taken a long shower before sitting down on the chair beside Marco's bed again to watch his wonderful boyfriend sleep. He looked so young in his sleep, the lines around his eyes and mouth softened after their long talk the previous day, and Mario pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek before turning around to take the Christmas bauble out of the nightstand beside Marco's bed.

Mario had forgotten that it was there over his joy about Marco finally being awake, but he had remembered it during his shower, and he carefully took it in his hand and looked at it. It was the only sphere that had survived the crushing of the poor Christmas tree, and the young footballer wondered why Marco had taken it with him when he had left their house for his nightly drive.

“The bauble – it has survived the crash?” Marco's astonished voice made Mario flinch and almost drop the ornament, but he caught it in the very last moment, his heart hammering in his chest with a strange fear. Somehow, it seemed to be important that this bauble stayed undamaged, and Mario instinctively pressed it against his chest, right where his heart was beating that fast, looking questioningly at his boyfriend.

Marco must have woken up while Mario had been busied with the sphere, and his beautiful eyes were glued to it as if it was the most important thing in the world to him.

“Yes, this ornament survived the crash. Yvonne told me that you clung to it for dare life when they took you out of your car. You were halfway conscious and you screamed when they tried to take it away from you. Feeling the bauble seemed to calm you, and they let you hold it until they had to put you into the coma. Yvonne gave it to me, and I put it into the nightstand to make sure that it would stay whole until you could tell us why it was so important to you. I had just remembered it.”

Mario gazed expectantly at the blond, and Marco averted his eyes from the bauble with visible effort to look at Mario instead, reaching out with his hand. “Give it to me, please. It is a true miracle that it survived the crash, a true, wonderful sign.”

Mario handed the bauble to Marco only reluctantly. It had warmed under his touch, and the light of the single lamp before the window reflected on the small, golden sphere and let it sparkle like a precious jewel as Marco now took it. The blond regarded it with something akin to rapt devotion before smiling at Mario.

“This sphere is the reason why I wanted to light up the tree on the 23th December, Sunny. I wanted to be alone with you when I gave you my Christmas gift.”

Mario frowned, marveling about Marco's mysterious words. The bauble was beautiful, but what could it possibly have to do with a gift? He got his answer sooner than he had thought, because Marco now carefully pulled at the two halves of the sparkling sphere, taking out what had been hidden inside its precious cocoon for so long.

Mario stared at the ring in Marco's hand, speechless and deeply touched. “Mars...” was all he could stammer after what felt like ages, his fingers trembling as he touched the small, golden ring in Marco's palm. It was the most beautiful ring Mario had ever seen, beautiful because of its simplicity and its meaning.

“I wanted to give you this ring on Christmas, Sunny. I know that we can't marry as long as we are still active players, but I hope that we will marry one day, making our bond and our love official. I love you, Sunny. There has never been anyone else I have loved as much as I love you, and this ring shall always remind you of my love for you.”

Mario let Marco put the ring on his finger, his hand closing over the blond's. The ring was as warm as the ornament had been, and the small and still new, tiny weight around his finger gave Mario the feeling of security and confidence, the feeling of being loved and cherished.

“I don't need a reminder of your love, Mars. I know that you love me, and I will never ever forget how much you love me and how much I love you. And yes, yes, yes, I want to marry you! I want to spend my life as your beloved husband with you, I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you every single day for the rest of our lives.”

Mario bent forward to kiss his Marco right when the firework outside started to light up the dark sky over Dortmund in beautiful colors, greeting the new year with cascades of exploding stars.

Their fingers were entangled like their lips were connected in a loving kiss, and when Mario drew back from Marco, they smiled at each other with love, hope and happiness.

“Merry Christmas, my beloved Mars, merry Christmas to you and a Happy New Year. From this day on, we will never be apart again. I love you.”

Marco took Mario's hand to kiss his finger right where the golden ring was shining in the colorful sparks of the firework.

“Never be apart again, I promise you. Merry Christmas to you too, my wonderful Sunny, merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! I love you!”


End file.
